


to make a home out of you

by blessed_image (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay George Weasley, George Weasley Centric, Hurt No Comfort, I guess???, M/M, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball (Harry Potter), but its mainly, my writing style is like uh idk poetic but idk how else to write so deal with it, omg btw fuck jkr fucking bitch, owie babey, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/blessed_image
Summary: And he swore in that moment, he would tell Cedric everything. He swore that, when his new-found love returned as either champion or not, he would spill his guts and let it be out-in-the-open that he didn’t care much for reputation; not anymore. Because, instead, he has this constant chill running down his spine and he’s grown to realise that he wouldn’t be much without it.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/George Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 37





	to make a home out of you

Fred was staring. George didn’t understand why, but from just across the table, his brother’s eyes wouldn’t leave him be; and despite his best efforts to ignore him, George would routinely meet them awkwardly before flickering his gaze back to his parchment. It was oddly quiet, too, he thought. Usually, by now there would be at least three explosions and wands strewn across the floor whilst the two brothers brawled playfully over something trivial. 

Evidently enough, everyone else had also noticed the lack of action- opting to occasionally watch them both with cautious expressions- as if there was some extravagant escapade bubbling under the surface of the silence. The only sound audible in the room was the scribbling of quills and ink and paper and the clearing of throats that sometimes interrupted the tranquillity, to which all the onlookers would realise that they should be doing work. George sighed, realising he wasn’t getting anywhere with his studying, throwing his head into his hands and trying some more to disregard the gawking. Fred snorted, and for a moment George actually believed that his brother could mind his own business instead of waiting for nothing. Or something, perhaps, but he had no clue as to what it could be. 

Peering from between his fingers, he saw that was not the case at all. 

Instead, Fred was just blinking owlishly at him, so he slammed his hands back onto the table, shut his book and left. Nothing much happened, just a few glares sent in his direction and the scrambling of belongings as Fred rushed to follow. 

“What’s up with you then?” Is what he said to George once they were pass the doors, as if he wasn’t the one staring or the one who had been acting off for the past hour and a half, and George’s jaw dropped dramatically at the audacity he had. 

“What’s up with me?” he sputtered, stopping in the hallway so that he could turn to look at his twin. “You’re the one who was staring at me for Merlin knows how long.” Fred rolled his eyes. George scoffed. 

“You’re being weird.” Fred said quietly, kicking his shoes together as he looked everywhere but him for once. “Ever since Cedric put his name in the goblet. You were watching him that day and I don’t know…”

George frowned, thinking back to that moment not too long ago- and now, the first task was tomorrow, and perhaps he was a little preoccupied thinking about it but he wouldn’t say his behaviour had changed. Not in a way that could make anyone act the way Fred had been, as if the world had suddenly stopped spinning on its axis. And, maybe, George hadn’t been up for as much as he usually would’ve been but he didn’t really think that to be too out of the ordinary. There have always been rough patches, and this instance had nothing in relevance to Cedric’s name being plucked out of the fire that day. If anything was odd, it was how Ron had taken to completely sidelining his best friend of four years, which even then wasn’t too wild considering the overdramatic nature of their brother. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” He replies simply, and walks away. 

To be completely honest, George hadn’t felt too good when he stumbled into said Hufflepuff later that day. His frown had deepened as he made his way through the halls, not bothering to think about how, for the first time in a long time, he and Fred had a not-so-friendly conversation. It had led to him leaving his twin behind, and he found that wandering the corridors alone was not as interesting as he had imagined. There were no little details etched into the walls, and there were no invisible doors that were begging for some random teenager to run their fingers across its front as he had once suspected. There were no adventures for George Weasley, he had to leave that to everyone else who had clearly more exciting lives outside of their comfortable bubbles. There were no whispers of his name through the crowds, just as there were no great expectations for him. He doesn’t necessarily want anything of the sort, of course he was perfectly content with the life he was leading, he would never dream of a future that didn’t include the stupid jokes or the bickering he shared with Fred. Yet, more often than not, he always felt a small disconnect as he grew older; one that his brother did not share, maybe suspected but never shared. George supposes he just wants something more than that. He supposes that, whilst Fred chases the girls or cares too little about the future, he was more bothered about the present. He took to fighting that scary urge inside him to break out of the mould that the Weasley name had carved out for him.

“George?” A voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he found himself stood still by the fifth floor staircase with a hand laid flat on a pillar. Blinking in surprise, he turned to see one Cedric Diggory watching with confusion from a few steps behind him. “How long have you been standing there?” And, truth is, he doesn’t really know. 

Cedric huffs out a laugh under his breath, making his way over to the Gryffindor in a well-hidden rush, looking around for _something_ that _isn’t_ there. 

“Where’s Fred?” Again, George isn’t aware of the answer, so he shrugs as he leans against the pillar beside him. Cedric smiles in a warm way that sets off that feeling in his chest, getting it without really getting it at all. “You two fight?”

“I don’t think so.” George answers shortly, voice not sounding quite as confident as the boy before him was probably used to. He returns the smile in fake reassurance. “It’s fine.” Cedric shakes his head.

“If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable, George Weasley.” The boy smirks, stepping closer, and George swears he can already see himself doing something impossibly stupid with that pretty face. A hand nudges at his shoulder, it’s a sweet gesture he supposes, but it feels a bit too much in the moment- like it means more than it actually should, like there’s some hidden message. The hand runs down his arm, and he shifts his feet in uncomfortable anticipation, only for the touch to retreat. It leaves his skin cold, a rush tickling his spine, a breath he was apparently holding in was forced out into the open- and, again, Cedric’s grin gets impossibly wider. George wants to reach out to him, wants to take that hand back as his own, to hold it and keep it and- 

He stops himself, and tries not to pay any mind to the selfish greed to break out of the Fred&George shell as Cedric takes his leave. _How did he know it was him?_

The next time he sees his brother, it’s just before the first task. It’s when George’s nerves are all worked up, and he can hardly contain his excitement. Fred doesn’t seem to really be issuing past events as an actual argument, so he doesn’t treat it in such a way either; instead, he places his shaking hands as firmly as he can on the wooden railing and he plants his feet as strongly as he can. Because, for a reason beyond his own conscience, they feel weak.

But then, Cedric leaves the tent, and everyone’s roaring with pride once they lay their eyes upon the beginning of something bigger than themselves. It’s as if that boy carries all of the world upon his shoulders, or maybe keeps the stars hostage in his eyes- and it’s all too much for George, yet he keeps his cool as he forces a cry of encouragement to slip out. The boy looks frightened, positively shitting himself for what’s to come, though he still raises his gaze to meet George’s and then the ground shakes so whatever that was comes to an abrupt, unwelcome end. One of Charlie’s dragons has broken the connection, and even though he is kept on his toes; George can’t help but feel some form of boredom at the lack of attention garnered from Cedric for the rest of the day. 

Then, there’s talk of a ball. A ball. Fred’s over-the-moon, not giving up on the talk of how many girls he could ask to the thing, and he mentions something about Angelina to George- giving up when he realises his brother really couldn’t care any less about the conversation. He hums in his ear, but doesn’t stare at him like he had before, so George really can’t complain. 

He looks up at a noise across the room though, and for the third time in three days, he catches the eye of Cedric. It’s bright eyes and shy smiles, but really it’s more than he can describe. He can almost hear the gears turning in Hermione’s head, as she watches his face split into a grin, but he doesn’t feel too antagonistic of the look she gives him. Probably because he doesn’t know what she found or because he’s too used to her observing whatever it is people are doing. Cedric lifts a hand, and makes a motion with his body that looks somewhat like The Fat Lady trying to look as beautiful as possible (and, without much thought to it, performs better than she could ever dream to). George tilts his head, and Cedric rolls his eyes. He drops his hands, so George thinks the odd interaction has come to a confusing finish, but he struts over to the Gryffindor table- whistles and shouting coming from the group of friends he was laughing and smiling with at his own table. 

“I said,” He begins once he is close enough, resting his hands on the dark wood of the table “would you like to go to the ball with me?” And time comes to a sudden halt. 

He feels like he’s drowning in the noise around him, and the smile on his face feels as if it had been slapped off harshly as he registers the question. 

“You what.” He asks, but it comes out as more of a declaration than anything- and Cedric laughs good-naturedly, and Fred and Ron and Ginny look scandalised whilst Harry carries on eating alone and Hermione’s eyes sparkle. Cedric leans in closer. 

“You.” His breath is warm as it hits his face, not in the disgusting way, but more that it just heats up from the sauna that is George’s cheeks. “Ball.” And George’s smile returns. “With.” And there’s something soft in the boy’s expression as he flicks his attention from George’s eyes to his lips. “Me.”

“Okay.” He didn’t even have to think about it. The word was like sand through his fingers, but he felt no regret. Cedric raises his eyebrows like he didn’t expect it to be so simple, so easy, and George repeats it as if it were nothing. As if the whole school wasn’t listening in, as if he hadn’t just thrown away what he had been hiding his whole life into the wind for this random pretty boy who was actually so much more than that. 

“Okay.” Cedric whispers back and the whole hall is loud again. George isn’t so sure why he had been worried. Fred kicks his leg, but the _something_ that was bursting at the seams doesn’t feel so bad anymore- and he realises that maybe, just maybe, all it needed was room to breathe. “Okay.” And, again, he leaves; but it feels slightly poetic this time, especially when he looks back at George kindly and the air tastes cleaner. 

Fred is staring again, but this time he doesn’t get annoyed. He leaves, yes, but he carries himself calmly and in a manner that makes everyone do a double take. 

“You’re dating Cedric?” Fred shouts after him before they’re even out of earshot “That’s why you didn’t wanna go with Angelina?” George spares his twin a glance. 

“We aren’t dating.” He laughs; Fred eyes him “Yet.”

“Cedric Diggory.” The name sounds like music, George notes as his grin broadens. “What a catch, dear brother.” Fred says, running away when George reaches to mess his hair. 

At the ball, something happens. It’s not a bad thing, he doesn’t think. It’s not necessarily good either though, because the whole room bares witness to it. 

First, he shows up. So far, all is well. Especially when he lays his eyes upon Cedric, who looks so amazing that George nearly made a 180, but decided against it when he saw the pleased look that paints the boy’s expression. Fred and Lee push him forwards, and he can see students watching from all the corners of the room, which he would say isn’t correct ball etiquette but he’s too enthralled in the fact that The Cedric Diggory is bowing to him as if purposefully putting on a show. Jokingly, he follows suit, and is not slow to slip his hand into his dates. 

Though, that’s when it hits him- that, actually, he supposes he lied to Fred. Because, technically, this is a date. Technically, they are dating and that sends George reeling so much that he almost forgets that Cedric can feel the exact moment he tenses; but it’s okay because he’s also nervous. It’s obvious, because he trips over his own feet and his hands are clammy and he’s rambling about nothing to the point in which even he can’t bear it anymore. George pulls on his arm, and tilts his head sweetly when brown eyes meet his own. 

“Calm down.” He states, and the words are a little wobbly- and George doesn’t know what it is about his face, but he just can’t understand why Cedric chose him for this. Yet, it’s seemingly good enough for him, because his shoulders relax and his expression fades out into something softer. 

There’s some Slytherins in the corner, and George recognises the hissing as Draco Malfoy, but he can’t find himself to care; because Cedric is looking at him as if he’s the only person in the room, or the world. 

They dance, and it’s a tad bit awkward. They share knowing looks, bashful looks, shy looks but it works out in the end with Cedric’s arm around George’s waist. The whole school watches them, everyone who bothered to turn up takes in the display of something new, something warm that builds it’s foundations between them both. Again, not so bad. Could have been worse, even if they stumbled a little at the start, and Fred’s supporting eye catches George’s fearful one so it all fits well in the end. 

The second task isn’t so well. To be honest, it sheds a somewhat glum light onto previous events. Not that George was awake for much of it, kept below the freezing waters, just waiting in his unconsciousness as unease settles throughout the present Weasleys as they soak in the knowledge two of their own are hidden amongst Grindylows. Vicious little fuckers, no one is fond of them. But George is happy for Cedric when he gets first place, pumping his fist in the air in victory with one hand whilst holding a blanket around George’s frame with the other. 

Later that day, they look at each other, and it feels tenfold to what it was prior to that challenge. Cedric keeps him close and warm, and George struggles to contain himself. 

He can’t quite do such a thing in the moment Harry returns from the last challenge. Because he was meant to be back with Cedric, and Cedric wasn’t back at all. Instead, just the corpse of a boy that had survived through outsmarting a dragon and the coldest of waters. Instead of cheering alongside everyone else, he found himself rushing down to the body of this boy whilst screaming his name. He found himself holding on tightly and not caring that he was openly crying in front of so many people, the tears bleeding through the shirt this boy was wearing. He found himself latching on, ignoring Fleur’s screaming and the sharp collective intakes of breath from the crowd. He found himself reaching for his brother when Amos Diggory dug a fist into the shirt of his dead son, numb yet so earnestly hurt that he doesn’t know how much crying he had really done- or whether he was crying at all. 

Just moments ago he had been waiting, he had realised in the freshest of air that he may love Cedric Diggory. The world hadn’t ended, Fred didn’t hate him and nothing was hurting. And he swore in that moment, he would tell Cedric everything. He swore that, when his new-found love returned as either champion or not, he would spill his guts and let it be out-in-the-open that he didn’t care much for reputation; not anymore. Because, instead, he has this constant chill running down his spine and he’s grown to realise that he wouldn’t be much without it. 

But that chill was almost too cold now. He couldn’t tell Cedric anything. He could only stare on at his body and watch as everyone was pushed away and sent in their own directions. The air wasn’t fresh, nor was it clean, and it stayed just a sick reminder that he had been happy- if only briefly. He couldn’t leave now, he thought, he knew that if he tried then he would fall- and he isn’t too sure if he had it in him to stand back up. Instead, he would sit there and wait; as if something would happen, and Cedric would open his eyes and look at him and tell him he feels the same.

**Author's Note:**

> payn luv abs oh loot payn


End file.
